


Let's Get Wasted

by Zedoktor



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zedoktor/pseuds/Zedoktor
Summary: The team gets together for a little relaxation with the aid of some illicit marijuana - and it turns out that it's really, really good at lowering inhibitions, as Heavy finds out.





	Let's Get Wasted

Their contracts made it clear that RED did not approve of any drugs. Spy’s cigarettes were tolerated, as was Demo’s horrible whiskey, and the liberal supplies of coffee in the canteen were not up for negotiation, but officially, the team was not supposed to have any mood altering substances on the base. It ‘could give BLU an advantage’.

Where Pyro had managed to obtain the marijuana, they would never know, but Soldier immediately began screaming about proper protocol and hippies, and tried to throw it away. Spy assured them that he had killed him painlessly, and he would respawn as normal in the morning. Demo was already drunk and therefore could not partake, but the rest of the team retired to the rec room, lit up, and got very happy.

“Goddamn, this is good shit,” Engineer drawled. “Better'n when I was in college, I’ll tell you that much.” He took another drag and passed the joint on to Spy. Scout, the lightweight, was already flat on his back on the floor trying to follow the pretty lights with his hands.

Pyro had some kind of odd hookah device that connected to his gasmask. It made his speech even more muffled that ever, but he had long since stopped communicating with anything other than gestures. Spy was eyeing the device with interest, but he still took the little roll up and puffed on it before handing it on to Sniper – or he tried to. The Australian was slumped against his shoulder and almost catatonic at this point. Heavy plucked it out of his fingers instead.

“In Russia, this very dangerous,” he said, yet he still had some before sending it back.

Engineer was unimpressed. “It ain’t as bad as cigarettes, boy, don’t worry about it.”

“Not is dangerous because is…” he trailed off, his English suffering due to the pleasant fog in his head. “KGB kill if have.”

“Aw, do zey not allow any fun in Russia at all?” Medic asked. While the rest were sprawled over the couch and chairs, he had taken one of the high stools next to Demo’s makeshift bar. By mutual agreement, he was not allowed any more; the exotic drugs already in his system that let him regenerate in combat reacted badly with the cannabis, and amplified its effects. He had been giggling uncontrollably for at least an hour.

“Oh, I am sure they allow some fun, but everyone must promise not to enjoy it or they will be sent to Siberia to clean up after the bears,” Spy said, claiming the joint again.

“Da, this is true. Why you think I leave?”

“I zink,” Medic started, holding out one finger as if to make a point, “I zink… mein hands are so big…” He stared at his finger in fascination, giggled again, and began to spin around on his chair.

Engineer started laughing at him. “Well shoot, call me crazy, but I think the Doc’s intoxicated.”

“Ach, bitte, I am not intoxicated!” he said. “Zis is nozzing, you should have seen ze stuff I had in Stuttgart – AH!” Medic lost his balance and fell off the chair, arms flailing wildly. The entire room erupted as if this were the funniest thing in the whole world, and in many ways it was; their normally uptight doctor had turned into the evening’s comic relief.

“Go sit on the couch, you imbecile – you can hardly fall off that,” Spy said, wiping away a tear. Medic pulled himself up, looking no worse for wear, and began to weave his way over to the one space left next to Heavy. He promptly tripped over Scout’s arm, stumbled forward, and fell face first into the Russian’s lap.

This was met with more crazed laughter from everyone, even him. Heavy helped him up, and he sat down beside him. “Heh, if Doktor so eager, have only to ask,” he chuckled.

Medic took this as permission to poke him in the belly. “You are so big,” he declared. “Bigger zhan my hands, even. You are so… verschmust.” He hugged him suddenly, squeezing him and rubbing his face against his chest. “Ich möchte mit dir schlafen, Heavy,” he murmured. “Ich bin so einsam, und geil…”

“Uh… not understand,” he replied, looking with some puzzlement at the German who was practically purring against him.

Spy had taken a bit too much of a drag on the joint, and was now coughing harshly. Engineer slapped him on the back. “Easy with that, partner… did you catch what the Doc was babbling on about?”

“Ugh… oui, it is something about wanting to sleep,” Spy said weakly, and gestured to Heavy with the roll up. “Take him to his room, will you?”

Heavy rolled his eyes at the order, and tapped Medic on the shoulder. “Come, Doktor – you want to go to bed?”

Medic’s eyes lit up, and a silly, happy smile drifted across his face. “Oh, ja,” he breathed. In a flurry of now quite coherent movement, he leaped to his feet and dragged Heavy out of the room.

He still managed to stumble several times, and Heavy dutifully supported him while they made their way to his bedroom. He was far more animated now, alternatively smiling like an idiot and whispering in his ear as if he were telling Heavy some great secret. It made little difference while he still spoke German and not English, and Heavy found that even his own limited knowledge of their mutual language was slipping away. The fuzzy feeling in his head made thinking a little difficult.

They reached his room, and Medic fumbled in his pocket for the key. “Okay – can get to bed and not fall?” Heavy asked, anxious to return before the last of the weed was smoked. He made to leave as soon as the other man finally got the door open, but found a hand tugging on his arm.

“What is now?” he said irritably. “Go sleep, Doktor, I go back to -”

Medic pulled him inside with a surprising amount of strength, and shut the door behind him with a decisive click. The look on his face had turned from silly to rather predatory, with a gleam in his eyes behind his glasses. Heavy watched in confusion as he sat on the bed and tried to tug at his boots. “Helfen sie mir,” he commanded, and held out one foot to him expectantly.

Heavy rubbed his face and swore under his breath in Russian at having to help a grown adult get undressed, even if they were stoned out of their mind. He roughly yanked Medic’s boots off, and helped him to shed the coat and shirt. “Is good now?” he growled, pulling back the sheet so that his teammate could get into bed.

“Wunderbar,” Medic said softly – and he grabbed Heavy’s T-shirt and pulled him forward without warning. He couldn’t stop himself from falling, and landed awkwardly on top of the other man in a tangle of limbs; the next thing he knew, Medic was kissing him enthusiastically and had managed to get his legs around Heavy’s waist.

Oh. Okay. This was… new. He was sure that they were both straight, for a start, and Medic had made it clear that he didn’t really like his team for the most part. Spy had made a pass at him once, and got a bonesaw waved in his face. Heavy himself was not interested in men at all -

Dammit, they were still kissing, and Medic had a death grip around his neck. He was resting on his elbows, and tried to lift himself up. Yes, he had said earlier about the Doctor being eager, but that was just a damn joke! He pulled away, trying not to think too much about what they had just done. “We – we not, this crazy…” he managed, desperately grasping at whatever English he could still remember.

Medic wasn’t taking no for an answer. He held on, kissing a line along Heavy’s jaw and down the side of his throat, and whispering in breathy, sultry German. “Du bist so verlockend… Du fühlst dich so gut, Heavy, I vant… küss mich, nimm mich, bitte, _bitte_ …”

Oh no… that felt really good, the way he nipped at his skin and exhaled hotly against his neck. He groaned softly, shocked at the sound of his own voice and harshly reminded of how long it had been since he had had anyone beg for his touch. Medic’s feet stroked his ass and thighs, and tried to pull his hips closer; that felt really good too, and when he returned to Heavy’s lips, it was just too hard to push him away.

Medic ran his fingers across his cheek and over the corner of his mouth, needy and insistent. “Lassen sie mich einfach,” he said, his tongue flicking out briefly. “Ich brauche es so viel, und… you are so sexy, so mächtig.”

Heavy hadn’t had much restraint anyway. He let himself be pulled down again, settling himself on top of Medic. Maybe they’d just… kiss a bit, get rid of some stress. It’d be good for them both, and they were just doing each other a favor. Yeah. It felt nice, after all. It wouldn’t go too far or anything – he wasn’t that into it, no matter how soft Medic’s lips were, or how much those moans were starting to turn him on.

* * *

The next day, Heavy woke up and realized a number of things in quick succession. He was naked, and draped over a similarly bare and snoring Medic; things had definitely gone too far, probably somewhere around the point where the Doctor had pulled his pants down and started sucking him off; it was likely that the whole base had heard them screwing each other senseless, especially the second and third time; and the bed was tilted at an odd angle because one of the legs had cracked and needed to be propped up with a stack of medical textbooks.

Small consolation that he didn’t have a hangover… he rolled onto his side and threw one arm over his eyes. This was one day that he really didn’t want to deal with. Medic stirred beside him, snorted in his sleep, and cuddled up to him like he was an over-sized teddy bear.

Alright, more than one consolation… the Doctor was, after all, really good in bed.


End file.
